


the other side

by sunbeamboy



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Catholicism, Everyone Is Gay, Everything Hurts, M/M, Religion, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, The Author Regrets Everything, Trans Male Character, Triggers, also link and ghirahim are dating, and zelda is goddess-kin, because again. i do what i want, because fuck you i felt like it, because sure. why not, fi is ghirahim's sister, ghirahim is an edgy punk bastard, link is trans, queerahim, read the notes jesus fuck, you're in my world now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-06-29 00:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15717852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunbeamboy/pseuds/sunbeamboy
Summary: ghirahim is an edgy queer bastard with a Dark Past and link's his tiny boyfriend. they love each other, even though ghirahim is ridiculously extra and link is as awkward as the day is long. they have fun. and as much as he would never admit it out loud, ghirahim's starting to lean on him more and more. it's not that everything is getting worse (how could it?), it's just that it's easier when you share the weight with someone.





	1. semicolon (prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god massive **trigger warning** for su/cidal ideation and su/icde attempt. please be careful.  
>  anyway. yes. i am bad at summary but everything is gay and sad  
> sorry in advance i just wanted to hurt my wife  
> also like uhh highkey some religious themes later to come? no spoilers but yeah it's super. not positive about the catholic church. also ghira's an anti-theist because yeah sure  
> this is basically the prologue. if yall who are sensitive to/triggered by the kind of su/cde depictions i mentioned earlier want to skip that shit (once other chapters are up) u can and it won't affect anything. as far as i know atm there won't be anything like that in the story proper so it should be fine and if it isn't there'll of course be a TW on those chapters individually.  
> if u think someone's being out of character and it bothers u please send an email to i.do.what.i.want@gmail.no  
> constructive criticism only please (i.e. how to fix/change something and not just what u don't like) i have anxiety and im sensitive

Ghirahim was sitting in bed, late in the afternoon, pointing a gun at his head. He'd been thinking about it for such a long time that this felt like, perhaps, the wrong way to do it, but he just didn't care anymore. This wasn't about glamour, it was the-opportunity-had-arisen-and-he-just-couldn't-stand-it-anymore. If it would make the noise stop, that was all that mattered. 

It was supposed to be quieter. It would be, if only he could stop fucking crying. There was a temptation to wipe at his eyes, to get the awful tickling feeling of tears on his neck off, but it wouldn't matter soon and he simply couldn't be bothered.

It was for those two reasons that he looked like such a mess. No makeup; old, ratty clothes; hair an absolute catastrophe. It felt weird to be so careless with his appearance. Again, though, not that it would matter soon.

He gritted his teeth, frustrated at himself, and pressed the barrel of the gun against his temple harder. It was almost soothing, in a way--the solid weight in his palm, cold metal against his skin, an orderly piece of machinery to end the chaos. The opportunity wasn't perfect (It hadn't been for the past while; part of why he was still alive.) but it was an opportunity. His hand was shaking uncontrollably, and it worried him, deep down. If he missed (somehow) or was a couple millimeters off to one direction or another, it either wouldn't be fatal or would be horrifically slow and painful. For the thousandth time in a week, he thought, not that it would fucking matter soon. 

If he could only get that one finger to listen to him. 

There was a knock on the door. He jumped. 

The door had already opened--he'd told these people a thousand times not to just walk in, and they never listened--and there was a small intake of breath from the doorway. 

"Ghira, put the gun down." Shit. Of everyone in the world to walk in, it had to be Fi. He stared at her, paralyzed with shock, suddenly and blisteringly aware of the tears on his face. How absolutely disgraceful he must look. Her face was as stoic as ever, but something in her big doe-eyes and slightly raised hands said desperation.

_Fuck her. Fuck all of them. Do it, let her rot. Pull the fucking trigger already, you piece of shit, do it you goddamned coward--_

He dropped the gun. The calm force of will in her quiet voice had forced his fingers apart and the muscles went limp and it fell to the bed. He was already immobilized from picking it up again. The opportunity had passed. He felt absolutely pathetic. 

She crossed the room quickly and pulled him onto the floor, on her lap, as she sat with her back against his bed. She wrapped her skinny arms around his shoulders. He just sat there and cried on her. It was all he could do anymore. The realization that he'd still be alive tomorrow slammed into him and he cried harder. Goddess Hylia, it hurt too much to even think about, he'd just wanted it to end. He just wanted it to  _end._

"Fi," he choked out between harsh sobs, not sure what he was trying to say. He just wanted to be sure she was there. 

She shushed him and petted his matted, unwashed hair. He curled his legs in slightly and clenched the fabric of her shirt into his fists. Another sob wracked across his chest and back, hurting his throat. She shushed him again. He cried louder in response. He couldn't believe himself. He honestly couldn't believe himself. "Ghira, it's okay," she muttered, "it's okay."

"It's not--"

"It is. It will be."

"No it won't, don't fucking lie to me!"

She shushed him more. He was starting to hate the shushing. Still, despite himself, he buried his face deeper in her shoulder and let himself be held.


	2. sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> domestic gay fluff? welcome to the actual, technical first chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so for the majority of the time i was writing this it was no warnings needed and then i had an Oof idea that was going to be its own thing but i realized it would fit here and. yeah.   
> **TW** for depiction of implied r/pe at the end,, section w potential trigger in italics  
> i think? it can be skipped without affecting too much,, it's a brief dream and y'all know what happens already so

It was late afternoon of a long, lazy Friday. The light coming into the room was becoming more golden and warm, painting the silent bedroom shades of orange. Link's cat, Ravi, lay in the sun with his eyes closed lazily. Ghirahim was lounging on the bed, staring at nothing and thinking about nothing, basking in the atmosphere of calm. Link was downstairs with his tutor and Ghirahim's sister, Fi, probably sitting at the dining room table in a similar light, similar glow. Ghirahim liked that they were friends.  
  
He turned to look at the cat and clicked his tongue, then whistled softly. Ravi opened his eyes and stared at Ghirahim heavily. "Ravi," Ghirahim called in a high voice. One of the cat's ears twitched. He didn't seem intent on moving. Ghirahim, groaning, rolled off the bed. "Get over here, you lazy thing," he grumbled playfully and scooped the cat up. Ravi looked up at him and miao'd. Ghirahim laughed and shifted his arms to support the cat in a way that wouldn't upset him. He was a very pretty cat; bright yellow eyes and long, mostly dark tortoiseshell fur with white socks. "Hey lazy," Ghirahim cooed down at Ravi, rubbing the back of his head with the tips of two fingers. Ravi miao'd again and started purring. It made the teenager smile. He got the, fairly sudden, urge to go downstairs and see Link.  
  
Sure enough, the blond boy was seated with Fi at the round table off the kitchen. They'd managed to cover half of the wood surface with papers. Ghirahim went over to them and glanced at what they were working on. Algebra. He made a face.  
  
Link turned in his chair to look up at the older boy and gasped. "Ravioli," he chirped happily, scratching the cat's shoulders. Fi exhaled and closed the textbook in front of her.  
  
"Does this mean we're done for today?"  
  
Link turned back to her, as if he'd forgotten about what they were doing already. "Oh, uh, I guess," he said sheepishly, still petting the cat the whole time. Ravi hadn't stopped purring for a moment. Fi didn't smile, but she wasn't upset. Link looked back up at Ghirahim helplessly and the older teenager realized he wasn't able to read Fi yet. Ghirahim just smiled, simultaneously reassuring and offering to explain later. Link gave up and turned his attention fully to the cat.  
  
The clattering from the kitchen stopped and Link's mom, hair pulled back messily and sleeves rolled up past her elbows, emerged. "Oh, are you two done?" She smiled over at Ghirahim while Fi slung her back over her shoulder and waved to her older brother. Ghirahim waved back. Fi promptly turned and started off to the door with a subtle strut. It was an endearing old habit of hers that always made Ghirahim grin to himself. Link's mom grabbed her car keys and gave the boys a quick hug on the way out.  
  
"Mom offered to give her a ride home since you drove her here," Link explained to the older boy under his breath. Ghirahim's brows knitted.  
  
"Oh, you don't have to do that, ma'am," Ghirahim called.  
  
"Now, hush," Ms. Seaton responded from the doorway, "I really don't mind. You two be good, don't burn the house down." The door clattered shut and was locked a second later.  
  
Ghirahim's eyes lingered on the door for several seconds, until Ravi squirmed out of his arms and jumped to floor with a chirruping miao. Link's footsteps wandered behind him to the kitchen.  
  
"Do you want anything? Coffee, tea?"

Ghirahim spun on his heels to look at the blond, considering it. "Tea... What do you have?"

Link opened a cabinet and inspected it. "Come look." There were dozens, perhaps more, different kinds of tea. 

"Oooh, blueberry," Ghirahim sang, retrieving a packet of green tea with blueberry and some other fruit flavors. The shelf it was on was a foot over Link's head, but Ghirahim barely had to stretch--Link wouldn't have been able to get it even on tip-toes. Link sniffed it once, quickly, and  _ooo_ 'ed in response. Ghirahim relinquished it with a grin and idly wandered around the rest of the downstairs while Link started heating the water. 

Ghirahim wasn't sure what there was to do but inspect the miscellaneous family knick-knacks scattered across the room, but he felt too weird about it. He settled for staring at them idly. Link wandered over behind him and took to explaining the story behind whatever Ghirahim happened to pass his gaze over. It seemed everything had a story. It was what felt like the way families should work, but it was a glimpse into a world so unfamiliar it made Ghirahim uncomfortable. At a certain point he got bored, but for politeness' sake never gave any inclination of it. He liked hearing Link's stories; he had an odd interest in hearing the particulars of how people phrased a thought, the way their brain worked. He liked the way Link's brain worked. 

Link held up a family photo--Georgia Seaton--Link's mom, Link, a man, and a young girl. The other two, the strangers, looked very much like Link--the man shared his wild, thick hair, his bold, expressive eyes and long eyelashes, the particular shape of his jaw. His skin was a paler complexion than Georgia's, his hair less calm. Georgia had a warm, ruddier complexion and bright green almond-shaped eyes. Her hair was also blond, though wavy and shoulder-length. The girl was smaller and lither than Link, her blond hair in two pigtails pulled over her shoulders, her blue eyes bright with some childish enthusiasm. The picture was from years ago--Link was hardly in middle school, at the oldest. His face was softer and his hair longer. Ghirahim smiled at Baby Link, but the mysterious other family members visibly dampened his affection. 

"You have a sister?" 

Link snatched the photo back, surprised. "Oh," he exclaimed, as though seeing it for the first time, and then stashed it away somewhere. He didn't even pretend to respond.

"Link. Is something wrong?"

Link looked up and met Ghirahim's eyes with an odd, distant look in his own--like he'd listened but not heard. "No, no, I just... No, everything's fine."

Ghirahim didn't believe him. He wanted to take another look at the photo, but he hadn't quite seen where Link had hidden it, and highly doubted Link would show him willingly. Link stood from where he'd been hunched over, rummaging through things around the room. He met Ghirahim's eyes with that same vacant look in his big, deep blue eyes. It wasn't just that he'd heard and not listened, it looked like his mind was entirely elsewhere. 

"Yeah," he eventually said on a sigh--a heavy sigh, like he had just dropped a large weight--"yeah, I have a sister. We don't see each other anymore."

Ghirahim just nodded. He couldn't imagine his own life without Fi's constant, steady presence, but once again reminded himself that this was a family, a life, that he didn't know. Maybe they'd never been close. Link shuffled past Ghirahim as if on a motor and started digging through a drawer, putting his back to Ghirahim, who moved to Link's side and looked over his shoulder. Eventually, Link made an exclamatory noise, holding up another, more weathered photograph. 

"Here," he said, thrusting it into the other boy's hands, "this one's more recent."

Sure enough, Link's face was closer to looking like the doe-eyed boy before him, and his hair had been cut short. The girl was older, too--her face was more dignified, her cheekbones and jaw more defined, the naive brightness gone from her eyes. Her hair was still long and as blond as Link's, but now she'd put it in a single, thick braid falling over her shoulder. Link looked like a young, teenage boy. The girl looked downright elegant. Her enigmatic, Mona Lisa half-smile kept drawing Ghirahim's eyes. He couldn't figure out what she was thinking when the shudder clicked, and it was driving him mad. 

"She's pretty," he muttered, not looking up. Link nodded. "Reminds me of the Mona Lisa, with that smile."

Link went around to Ghirahim's elbow to look at the photo. "I can see it." He paused. "She was kind of a little shit."

Ghirahim laughed in surprise. "Oh?" It ran so contrary to the story the photo told.

Link grinned. He took the photo from Ghirahim, who relinquished it without a fight, and replaced it in the drawer.

"Why do you not see her much?"

Link exhaled. "Long story," he said quietly, reluctantly.

Ghirahim could tell he was already getting upset with the subject, so he put a hand on Link's arm to get his attention. When Link looked up, he gave the blond a soft kiss on the cheek. Link gasped, delighted, and Ghirahim smirked. "It's alright, we don't have to talk about it."

Link smiled up at him but his eyes were still melancholy. 

"Come on," Ghirahim said, weaving his fingers with Link's and squeezing his hand for a second, "I think the water's hot enough by now." Link nodded, smile staying on his face while they walked back through the house to the kitchen. 

Link poured a steaming mug of hot water and Ghirahim set the teabag in and pushed it under with his finger. Link smiled up at him humorously, dark lips parted enough to show a flash of teeth, before he walked around behind Ghirahim's back and rifled through the refrigerator. He shut the fridge door and exhaled. Ghirahim looked up from his impatient messing with the teabag, but Link didn't seem intent on communicating his intentions and Ghirahim went back to what he was doing. In less than a minute, due to the constant movement, the water had gone from clear to a faint, translucent green and starting to truly smell like green tea. Ghirahim inhaled a lungful, eyes closed luxuriously, and sighed, pleased. 

Link, across the kitchen, was making popcorn. He didn't consult Ghirahim, because the other teen probably wanted some, and even if he didn't Link could easily eat it himself. Once it started to smell like popcorn, Ghirahim left and put his tea down on a table somewhere else, lest the smells become too much. Link lingered, idle and bored, in front of the humming microwave with his hands in his pockets. Ghirahim leaned back, smiling, gazing absently at the blond. Link felt the dark eyes on him and turned toward that heavy gaze, smiling back. 

"You hungry?" Link asked. Ghirahim's smile widened unconsciously. 

"Yeah. I like how you didn't even have to ask if I wanted popcorn."

"Every high-schooler wants popcorn." Link's eyes had gone back to the spinning popcorn. The timer beeped several time insistently, shrilly. Ghirahim stood and walked back to the kitchen as Link stretched up to retrieve it. 

"Do you have any big bowls? At home I always put popcorn in a big glass bowl."

Link replied with a long "Uhh..." while he started rummaging through cabinets. Eventually, he found one. It was a different style than those of the dishes Ghirahim was used to, but that was to be expected, of course, and Ghirahim thought the bowl was pretty in any case. They emptied the popcorn bag into the clear glass bowl and Link picked the bowl up from the counter while Ghirahim retrieved his tea. They set off together upstairs, Ravi running between their feet to sit at the top of the stairs and watch their slow assent. Link got to the landing first (Ghirahim moving much more slowly than he’d like to avoid spilling the tea) and shooed Ravi aside with a gesture of one foot. Ravi turned promptly and strutted into the bedroom. 

The two of them crawled onto one bed, Ghirahim setting his tea on a bedside table and promptly forgetting it. The bowl of popcorn sat between them while Link started a movie on the TV mounted on the wall across from them. Ghirahim dozed off first, before the movie had even finished and without touching his tea.

* * *

 

_Several hours had passed. Ghirahim had, while sleeping, snuggled against Link's back and looped his arms around the boy affectionately. He was wearing as little as he could get away with, which turned out to be very little._

_The blankets were thrown off of Ghirahim with a sharp flourish. Sleepily, he opened his eyes a fraction, hardly awake at all until some deeper part of him recognized the figure beside the bed. His blood turned to ice and he was paralyzed with cold, piercing fear. He couldn't force himself to scream for help, to run away, fight, move, anything--he couldn't even speak or shake his head while the adult man crawled across Link's unconscious body. A spark of hope lit up in his chest when the man's knee crushed into Link's hips and thighs--he waited for Link to wake up, to break the spell holding Ghirahim captive. Several seconds passed. Link's breathing didn't even change; he wasn't going to wake. There was a sudden, unspeakable,_ horrible _sinking feeling of dread spiraling down through Ghirahim's abdomen and dragging his spirit lower and deeper, trapping him further and further within himself, stealing his will further away from his limbs. He didn't know what was going on anymore. He could hardly process anything with the horrific buzzing in his ears; his eyes unfocused and his mind went numb and he drifted away. Then, there was a monstrous, tearing pain consuming him whole. It was almost like he was being fucked with a knife, but on all sides and deep in his pelvis. He simply didn't react, despite the screaming pain and terror, the violent, unbearable compulsion to do something, anything--_

* * *

 

And then he was staring blankly up into Link's wide, frightened blue eyes. Link was crying. Ghirahim was also crying. He violently shoved Link away, humiliated at the possibility that Link might have seen or heard what was happening. He'd scampered halfway off the bed in fright when he realized, quite suddenly, that he was not in pain. He was breathing heavily, his throat hurt like hell, his eyes were raw and stinging. He tried to speak and found that his voice was gone. Words had abandoned him in the face of the blood-chilling, frayed fear; the old, old panic rotting and fermenting in the pit of his stomach. Ghirahim met Link's eyes from the other side of the bed and started, silently, to weep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's a plot??  
> also i update chapter drafts sporadically without going through and rereading so if shit's janky please let me know i don't have the patience for proofreading at 1:20 a.m.


End file.
